Earning Trust
by Caesar Augustus Plutarch
Summary: A different Daria arrives in Lawndale thanks to a fateful lottery.


**Learning Curve**

_By CAP _

_in response to a PPMB Iron Chef challge that asked what would have happened if Quinn went to a charter school in Highland but not Daria_

Jane wrote the last answer on the exam and rushed it up to Mr. O'Neil, the teacher of Lawndale's afterschool self-esteem class. The gag had been fun for a while but she grew bored with it so she did not purposely fail this time as she had done the previous six efforts. One more course would be more exposure to O'Neil than she cared to endure.

He beamed at her and started to speak but Jane was faster. "I learned a lot," she said quickly. "I'm bursting with self-esteem now. Must be the way you teach. Gotta go. Bye."

Jane grabbed her things and hustled out of the room to get ready for her next pursuit, trying to get the new girl to talk. The girl arrived at Lawndale High School a month earlier and had yet to say more than hello. If Mr. DeMartino, her history teacher, had not announced that the new girl's name was Daria Morgendorffer when she entered his class room late on her first day, Jane doubted she would have even known that much. They had several classes together and Jane even thought that they had the same lunch period although she never saw the girl in the cafeteria but she knew nothing more about her than she had the first day the new girl arrived beyond what observation tallied.

Daria was short and had thick glasses. She kept her brown hair in a medium bob that barely covered her ears as it angled down along the jawline. She artfully applied what scant cosmetics she wore. She occasionally wore a skirt but she generally dressed in jeans with sneakers and simple blouses. Since the weather turned a little chilly the previous week, she wore a beat-up black faux-leather jacket hiding well-built arms and abs that Jane doubted few others outside of gym class discerned. A couple of wicked scars across one bicep teased the imagination. Past that, however, the only thing that Jane noted was the constant caginess that seemed to be the girl's only real expression.

Jane even failed to engage her in conversation after previous self-esteem classes. The school was all but empty by the time O'Neil dismissed them yet Daria always managed to disappear like a ghost.

"Not today," Jane muttered to herself as she waited in the hall just outside of the classroom.

She did not have to cool her heels long. Daria emerged from the classroom scarcely a minute behind her.

"How'd ya do?" Jane asked.

Daria warily looked her over before answering. "What's there to it?" she asked rhetorically as she moved on by. "Just shovel back the dreck he's been spewing all month. It's not as if he's any less clueless as to anyone's mental condition than that idiot of a school psychologist."

"Ain't that the truth," Jane agreed as she effortlessly fell into step with her. "I'm Jane Lane by the way if you don't know."

"I've picked up on that," Daria injected frowning slightly at the tall girl who inexplicably was walking beside her.

"But what you probably don't know is that there's no one in the school faster than I am," Jane continued. "You can't outrun me and you can't hide from me so …"

The world became a blur of color before turning white as pain shot through her when the floor raised up to smack her back and head, her breath leaving her in a violent whoosh. Vaguely, she heard her portfolios hitting the floor around her but all that registered was the hurt. Before Jane could reorient herself, Daria had a foot on her throat. Icy eyes stared down at her.

"But what youobviously don't know is that I don't have to outrun anyone that I can out fight," the shorter girl told Jane in a voice colder than an artic stone.

Daria added a bit more pressure to the prone girl's neck as a hint to what could happen before stepping back. Jane stared at her for a moment before glacially rolling over and pushing herself up. Shakily, she got to her feet dazed surprise more than injury causing the tremors.

Don't try me," Daria coolly commanded. "You're not good enough."

"Gotcha," Jane unsteadily replied leaning against the wall.

What's the deal?" Daria demanded.

Jane stared at her for a moment, the suddenness of the attack and the instant change in Daria's personality leaving her somewhat befuddled.

"I wanted to talk to you," Jane finally responded.

"Why?"

"Just 'cause," Jane said. "You don't seem to be another drone, ya know."

Daria looked Jane over again as adrenalin subsided. A surge of guilt coursed through her as she saw just how frightened she made the taller girl, a girl who upon reflection was probably telling the truth. She simply was trying to be sociable. Something no one had bothered to do for some time. Daria's body visibly relaxed as she sighed deeply.

"Look, I'm sorry," she contritely said. "It's just…forget it. I'm sorry."

Jane held up a hand. "It's my fault. I really just wanted to talk but I guess it sounded like a threat."

Daria shook her head. "Yeah," she explained. "Where I used to go to school, you immediately answered threats or else. I need to remember that I'm no longer in that environment."

Jane took a deep breath mastering the shaking of her body. As the pain and fright ebbed she realized that she had done what she set out to do, she had Daria talking to her although hardly in the manner she expected.

"So what school was this?" Jane asked trying to keep the conversation going. "Gangbanger High, inner-city, USA?"

"Substitute west Texas for inner-city and you got it," Daria replied. "Hope High School. Talk about ironic names."

From anyone else, Jane would have thought that she was some sort of gangsta wannabe trying to prove that she was the toughest thing in the valley but the real pretense was the diffident wallflower persona that Daria wore for the last several weeks as the speed and skill with which she flipped her aptly demonstrated.

"Are you all right," Daria asked as the silence lengthened.

"Yeah," Jane said.

Daria picked up Jane's portfolios. Jane notice that even while performing that act of courtesy, Daria did not ever turn her back to her. She kept her eyes on Jane as she handed over the cases. The taller teen gingerly took them as she quickly thought. Daria sounded apologetic and she definitely looked it. I totally pushed a button Jane thought as she rubbed the back of her head with a free hand. Tentatively, she set aside her apprehension deciding to trust that Daria was sincere.

"Don't worry about it," Jane replied more jovially than she felt. "My fault more than yours."

"That's putting a polite face on it," Daria said.

"I guess saying 'hi' first might have been better," Jane replied. "But hey, no blood, no foul."

"Thank you," Daria replied.

"Por nada," Jane said. "Hey, if I haven't scared you too much, why don't you come over to my house and we'll watch_ Sick, Sad World_ or something."

Daria smiled sadly, as she checked her wristwatch. She wanted to keenly but she simply could not. "Jane, I'd like that but I can't," she replied. "I have to get back home."

Jane chuckled covering her disappointment. "What?" She asked lightly. "You have fix dinner for seven younger siblings or something?"

"I'm grounded," Daria replied. "I have to go directly from school to the house."

"Bummer," Jane said. "For how long?"

Daria sighed deeply. "Probably until I graduate," she replied. "Longer if Mom has her way."

Jane almost jokingly asked 'who'd you kill' but after Daria's little exhibition, she was afraid that Daria might actually supply a name. The short girl had her at her mercy and could have easily hurt her a lot more than she had if she was in that frame of mind.

"Where do you live?" Jane asked instead.

"On Glen Oaks," replied Daria.

"Hey, cool," Jane exclaimed. "I live on Howard so that's on my way if you want to walk together?"

"Yeah, that'll be good," she earnestly replied with a small uncertain smile.

(*)

A wave of dejection washed over Daria when her house eventually came into view. For the first time that she could remember, she was enjoying the company of a classmate. Jane was interesting, unconventional, and even cool with a dry sense of humor that revealed far more intelligence than she let on. Her verbal salvos and wry observations about the school, the teachers, their fellow students and life in general meshed with her own thoughts like two gears in a Swiss clock. Daria even laughed a couple of times, something she thought that she had forgotten how to do.

As they got nearer, a small hope shone like a distant star in the deep of her mind. Her father's blue Lexus parked in the driveway. He was home early. Dad was an easier touch than was her Mother.

"If my father says that it's okay would you like to come in for a while?" Daria asked hesitantly.

"Yeah, sure," Jane replied pleased at the invitation although taken off-guard by how bashfully Daria asked her.

They found Jake, Daria's father in the kitchen mixing some iced tea. His face lit up when they came into the room.

"Hey Kiddo," he said brightly. "Who's this?"

"Dad, this is Jane Lane," Daria replied. "We have some classes together. Is it alright if she stays for a bit?"

Jake smiled broadly pleased to see Daria finally making a friend. The girl looked okay. The boots she wore and the several silver hoops in her upper ear might not be conservative but she did not have the hard rough appearance that so many of the girls at Daria's old school had. Jake's snap judgment was that Jane was a good egg.

"I'm pleased to meet you, Jane," Jake cheerfully said. "And you're very welcome here. Would you like some iced tea? Its peach flavored."

"Thanks, Mr. Morgendorffer," Jane said both to the tea and the positive reception.

Polite too, Jake thought as he poured the tea, neither the thanks nor the mister was forced. Helen might throw a fit over him allowing Daria the company of a girl they knew nothing about but after the last couple of years, Jake was confident of his ability to read teenagers. Jane was the kind of kid he wanted Daria to befriend and besides Helen needed to allow the leash to lengthen a little bit sometime soon or she was going to destroy her relationship with Daria permanently. Their daughter genuinely made the effort at penance for her mistakes. Helen best start recognizing that and Jane looked to him as a good place to start.

Jane and Daria took their iced teas to Daria's bedroom. Jane did not know what to expect but something with all the individuality of a motel room startled her. Bland was the kindest description she could think of. There were no personal touches unless one counted a bookcase. No photos, pictures, or posters hung from the pale blue walls. Save for a small television the bureau top was bare. A single lamp and a wind-up alarm clock found a lonesome home on the nightstand. No teddy bear kept as a sentimental reminder of childhood rested on the bed. The sole extravagances were an upholstered wing chair that Daria directed her to and an acoustic guitar sitting in a corner.

"Yeah, I know," Daria sourly agreed when she saw Jane's expression.

"I'm sorry," Jane said sitting down. "But, damn, jail cells probably have more personality."

Daria flung open the curtains revealing a barred window. "Courtesy of the previous owners."

Jane was about to comment when a red headed girl walked in. "Bonjour, Daria. Do you have some markers I can borrow?" she asked in French.

"Yes, I do," Daria replied. "But I have a guest that probably doesn't speak French."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," the girl apologized switching to English. "Hi, I'm Quinn, Daria's sister."

"Jane Lane," Jane replied taking stock of Quinn. If she had not said that she and Daria were sisters, Jane would have never guessed so. They looked nothing alike. She looked slightly younger than her, maybe a year or two, with long, straight, red hair that slipped easily past her shoulders. She was taller than Daria but somewhat slimmer without her sister's muscular build. The greatest difference was her face. Not simply prettier, her countenance was far more open. Optimism shone from her as much as caution dominated Daria's features.

Daria handed her sister the markers she requested. "Dad said that she could stay," Daria said in response to Quinn's inquiring glance.

"Good. Great," Quinn replied exuberantly. "Jane I'm really, really pleased to have met you. I hope to see more of you."

"Yeah, same here," Jane said.

"Thanks, Daria," Quinn said waving the drawing markers briefly before disappearing closing the door behind her.

"That was a little over the top," Jane said while Daria turned on the television. "Something I should know?"

"Don't throw water on a grease fire," Daria flippantly replied kicking off her shoes before flopping on to the bed.

"I'll remember that," said Jane.

Jane chuckled silently. You did not think that you would get her complete biography that easily, did you, she thought to herself. She probably will not tell you her middle name until we have known each other a year.

"What are you thinking?" Daria asked.

"I was wondering what your middle name was," replied Jane.

"Evangeline," Daria easily answered turning up the television volume as the _Sick Sad World_ theme started to play. "Dad's an admirer of Longfellow's poetry."

Only a quickly arched eyebrow gave away any surprise on Jane's part that she got that tidbit from Daria but she chose to say nothing, easing back into the chair while the announcer prattled about the President's moonshine still ("_White Lightning in the White House, next on Sick, Sad World"_).

"No big surprise," Daria jested. "He's from Arkansas, after all."

"But the question is how much 'shine did it take to make Paula Jones look like Miss Arkansas?" Jane asked.

"Probably a Mason jar less than what it took to nominate Janet Reno," Daria replied.

The next half an hour passed in a gale of hillbilly jokes and wisecracks about the commercials. It was only after the show finished and Daria turned the television off did they hear the arguing voices downstairs. The guardedness that had relaxed while they were cutting up instantly leaped back onto Daria's features.

"Jane," she said rolling from the bed. "This might get a little ugly. Please believe me that it has nothing to do with you and everything with me."

Jane was mystified but before she could ask any thing, the bedroom door flung open and a middle-aged woman in a red jacket and matching skirt stormed in. Jane reflexively pushed herself further into the chair pinioned like a butterfly in a collection by the woman's Medusa gaze. She was grateful when Daria diverted her mother's attention.

"I'd take it as a favor if you didn't shout at my guest, Mom," Daria said calmly before her mother could speak. "This is Jane Lane, a classmate of mine. Jane, this is my mother, Helen."

"Hi, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Jane said hoping that her voice did not actually squeak as her ears told her that it had.

"Hello, Jane," Helen tightly replied. "I don't wish to be rude but I must ask you to leave. Daria is not allowed visitors as she well knows."

Jane nodded reaching for her portfolios.

"What is in those?" Helen demanded spotting them.

"Just my pads and pencils and stuff," she replied. "I like to draw."

"Hand them here, please."

The 'please' did not make it any less of a command as Jane readily discerned. She meekly gave Helen the portfolios who quickly and thoroughly rifled through them. As Helen was pawing among her drawings, Jane looked over to Daria.

"I'm sorry," she mouthed silently but otherwise gave away nothing as to what she was thinking.

Yikes, Jane thought. I don't know what's going on but I know what's about to go down. I just hope I can get out of the way of the explosion.

"You have talent," Helen said handing the portfolios back to Jane.

"Uh, thanks, Mrs. Morgendorffer," Jane replied uncertainly.

"I'll see you in school Monday," Daria said coolly.

"Sure, okay," replied Jane slidding past Mrs Morgendorffer. "Uh, bye."

She scampered from the room. Before she reached the stairs, the door slammed and Helen began to shout. Jane stopped to catch the words but Quinn emerged from her own bedroom.

"Jane, I'm sorry," she said sorrow written large on her expressive face. "Please don't think too badly about mother. She's not an ogre, really."

"What the hell's going on?" Jane asked.

Quinn's brow ouckered in thought for a moment before repling "It's not for me to tell you," she said directing the other girl down the stairs. "But I hope that you become Daria's friend even if she chooses not to expound upon thre trouble between her and mom."

"I'd like to be her friend," Jane replied. "She's cool."

Quinn chuckled although her expression remained sad. "Not an adjective many would use to describe her," she said. "But I think that she's cool, too and a very good person if you manage to get beneath the antisocial exoskeleton."

Jane paused stopping the affable redhead who was struggling to keep her composure as her mother's tirade increased in volume. Daria's wallflower persona was a charade but Quinn's obvious discomfort and concern for her sister revealed a far tenderer girl.

"What is it?" she asked opening the door.

"I don't get it," Jane said. "Why aren't you as hardcore as Daria, same parents, same town, same school?"

"People have been debating nature versus nurture for a very long time," Quinn replied "But part of the situation is that we did not go to the same school until now."

"Why not?"

Quinn shook her head. "Daria will tell you what she wants you to know," she replied. "Again, I'm sorry about my mother's abruptness and I'm sorry that my father put you in a position that he lacked the moral courage to defend you from."

"No apology for Daria?"

"For reaching out to another? There's no need to apologize for that," Quinn replied before giving Jane a small wave of good-bye as she closed the door gently.

(*)

The following weeks passed quietly. Daria opened up more during and between classes and began to sit with Jane during lunch instead of hiding in the library, as was her previous wont. She even brought her guitar to school and would play for Jane occasionally. Each morning they would walk to school together retracing their steps in the afternoon although they would part company on the walk in front of the Morgendorffer house. They, like the Walrus, spoke of many things but Daria did not speak of the scene with her mother or the reasons behind it. Jane, heeding Quinn's advice, did not press the issue.

"Home sweet home," Daria said her voice dripping with sarcasm as they stopped before the front door of her house.

"At least you have a home," Jane said. "I was afraid we were going to lose ours for a while there," Jane said. "Fortunately Trent slept through the bank people efforts to deliver foreclosure papers."

"More fortunately your parents were somewhere you could reach them," Daria said. "The way you talk, that's rare."

"I might exaggerate a little," Jane admitted. "But there have been a few times I didn't even know what continent they were on."

Daria glanced at the door. "Sounds perfect," she said after a moment.

"No, it isn't," Jane replied.

"Nothing ever is," Daria said. "But I would settle for it sucking a little less, right now."

"It doesn't suck any less," Jane answered quickly. "It might be benign neglect but it's still neglect. Sometimes, ya know, I just want my mom. After all these years, I don't need her but sometimes I just want her."

Daria shook her head. "I understand that but you have the freedom to come and go as you please," she said. "Mommy's not there tucking you in at night but she isn't locking you in either."

"Your mom locks you in at night?" Jane asked incredulously. "I thought the bars on your bedroom window were from a previous owner."

Daria smiled slightly. "They are," she replied. "I was speaking figuratively."

Jane looked Daria over for a moment. "Are you sure?" she asked softly but with deep unease. "I can tell somebody. Make a call. Something."

"Thank you," Daria said. "But I am not being abused." She looked away for a trice before continuing. "Mom's overreacting although it's understandable. It's frustrating but in the end, it's my fault entirely."

Jane pushed a random strand of hair from her face as she silently debated with herself. Alarm and friendship overrode restraint. "Daria, one of the classic indicators of abuse is that the victims feel that they are responsible for the situation, that they are the bad guys," she argued. "I'll drop a dime in a heartbeat. I can have child services or someone out here in nothing flat."

"Jane, again, thanks," Daria said with a sardonic if sad smile. "But trust me when I say that she is not abusing me and it is my fault. Things are a little complicated right now between mom and me but I know that she loves me and is doing what she believes is best for me."

Jane looked at the Morgendorffer house before speaking. "If you know that she loves you than you're one up on me," she wistfully replied. "I can't say that with any assurance."

Daria gave Jane's hand a tiny squeeze. "I'm sure your mom does," she said. "I sure both of your parents do."

"Yeah," Jane agreed. "But it would be nice to hear them say it."

Daria spotted her mother's minivan coming down the street. She brutally stifled the rush of disappointment and ire at the forced ending of her conversation with Jane. It would be another long weekend with only her family for company.

"I gotta go," she said resignedly.

Jane saw the car also. "Yeah," she replied in a voice equally as weary before snorting. "We must be the only two teenagers in America who hate the weekend."

"Probably," Daria said. "For anyone else's sake, I hope so. See you Monday."

"Yeah."

Daria was inside and Jane was halfway down the walk when Helen pulled into the drive. She quickly opened the door.

"Jane, wait please," she called out even before releasing her seat belt.

Now what, Jane thought hostilely. My turn to be yelled at?

Helen noted the antagonistic expression and the tense stillness of the teen girl's body. Hardly surprising she thought considering our first meeting and who knows what spin Daria has been putting on things. She undoubtedly thinks that I am a bastard amalgamation of something from Dickens and Greek mythology.

"I didn't go inside," Jane said as Helen approached.

"I'm certain that you didn't," Helen said trying to sound friendly.

Jane nodded but said nothing electing to wait for Helen to continue. As her brother, Trent, told her, The Man cannot use anything that you say against you if you do not say anything. Of course, he also added that tactic did not work with women.

"Jane," she finally began. "Being a mother often means being the bad guy. You have to establish boundaries and limits that your children won't like but it is for the best."

She paused trying to gauge the teen-ager's reaction before continuing. "That being said, there is no cut and dry this is how it's done when it comes to parenting. Sometimes, often, probably always you do what you think is right and hope that you don't screw up too badly."

"Mrs. Morgendorffer," Jane interrupted. "If you're trying to defend yourself, don't bother. I don't like what you're doing to Daria but whatever caused you to treat her like some felon she takes full responsibility. Any time I say something, she always absolves you of all blame."

"Really?" Helen asked not bothering to hide her surprise.

"Yeah, really," Jane replied. "You need to cut her some slack."

Helen sighed. "So Jake's been telling me," she said. She paused a beat before speaking again. "Quinn, also. She's been finding out as much as she could about you."

"You had her spy on me?" accused Jane.

"No, I didn't," denied Helen. "She's been trying to find enough proof to convince me that you can be trusted, that you are the type of girl I want as a friend for Daria's. Quinn says that you're an unusual girl."

"Okay maybe I'm not just another Barbie clone but I'm not weird," Jane snapped feeling a little hurt that Quinn said something like that.

"She didn't say that you're weird," Helen corrected. "She told me that that your parents aren't around much, that you pretty much live alone with an older brother who's a musician."

"Yeah, so?" Jane defensively growled.

"Ninety-nine percent of kids in your situation would be running wild," Helen said. "Yet as far as Quinn was able to ascertain and I trust her skill at ferreting out facts you're unusual in that you are not promiscuous, into drugs, or run with a bad crowd."

"My eldest sister, Summer, did," Jane admitted. "I guess she supplied an object lesson."

"Life's easier if you're able to learn from the experiences of others," Helen said. "I need to talk to Daria but hang loose. She might be calling you tonight."

Jane stared for a moment before breaking into a large smile. "Really?" she asked.

"Really," Helen replied.

(*)

_The Zon_, a club on Lawndale's Dega Street, was packed. The clientele consisted mainly of twenty-somethings. Sprinkled in the mix a handful of people who were trying to kid themselves that thirty was not clearly in the rear view mirror. Fewer still were some high school students, amongst the latter, Jane and Daria.

Jane dressed in her usual mode but Daria broke out some clothes Jane had not seen her wearing before. She wore a black skirt and green jacket over a burnt orange tee shirt. A pair of lace up boots nearly identical to Jane's own adorned her feet.

Jane smiled watching Daria drink in the scene as she drank her _Dr. Pepper_. After Helen's announcement, Jane ran home parking herself by the telephone praying that all of Trent's friends had better things to do than get in contact with him. Luck was with her. When the call came forty-three minutes later, Jane snatched the phone from its base before the first ring finished. Plans for the evening quickly formed.

"How's it feel to be out?" Jane asked.

"I know several score thousand words in three languages," Daria replied her smile nearly as broad as her friend's was. "But right now, none of them are adequate."

"_The Zon_ isn't much, I know," Jane said.

"It's a cesspool," Daria laughed. "I'd sooner pee behind the dumpster out back than in the restroom here."

Jane joined in the laughter. "Yeah, lotta girls do just that but the alley still smells better than the restroom," she concurred. "Still it's gotta beat sitting in your room on a Friday night. Hey, there's Trent."

She cupped her hands and shouted for him. Moments later, a lanky young man with black hair eased up to their table. Daria rapidly took in the scuffed boots, torn jeans, tee shirt, earrings, tattoos and soul patch. Dude she thought you're trying too hard.

"Hey Janie," he drawled lazily. "Who's your fellow _Doc Marten _fan?"

Jane quickly introduced the two of them. Frowning, Trent shook Daria's hand briefly.

"But I thought you said that her mother kept her locked in her room," he said to Jane.

"She did," Jane said merrily. "But now Daria's been sprung from durance vile."

"Durance vile, hmmmm," Trent mumbled his eyes getting a faraway look to them.

"Yo, Earth to Trent," Jane said. "Daria now. Song ideas later."

"Hey, ya know, inspiration," he slowly replied. "Daria, it's a pleasure to finally meet you. Janie's talked of little else but you for a month. Good to have a face to go with everything now."

"Same here, Trent," Daria replied. "And I get to hear if your band's as bad as Jane says it is."

Trent's laugh turned into a small coughing fit. "Did she ever explain why we keep getting gigs if we're so bad?" he asked.

"She's convinced that you still have your soul so it's either a sign of the approaching apocalypse," she replied. "Or another indication of the death of American culture."

Trent laughed again. "You're all right, Daria," he said. "Janie says that you're a fair guitarist. Maybe you could come over and we could jam one day."

"Maybe," Daria said.

"Cool," he replied before excusing himself to look for his band mates.

Daria was checking her wristwatch when Jane looked back over. "They're about to go on," she said.

"It's not that," Daria answered. "I simply want to stay abreast of the time. An eleven o'clock curfew is generous. I don't want to jeopardize it on the very first night."

Jane shrugged. "Spiral goes on at nine," she said. "First set usually lasts about an hour which will give us an hour to get you home. No problemo even walking."

"Yeah, I know," Daria agreed. "But it's been a long time coming."

Jane only nodded in response as Trent and the rest of the band stepped onto the stage. "Hey, we're Mystic Spiral," he said over the applause.

"But we're thinking about changing the name," he added as Jane said the words in unison with him at her table causing Daria to grin while handing over a dollar bill.

(*)

They left the club at ten-ten. It was chilly but the streets teemed with people out seeking adventure on a Friday night. Neon flashed in rhythm with the hum of car tires zipping through the streets. Music blasted from several clubs when doors opened. Fast food joints did a land office business. Above all else was a calliope of conversation. Whether face-to-face or on cell phones, dozens of people talking at once passed by the two girls. Jane kept quiet content to watch Daria imbibe the vibrant scene as drought parched ground soaks in the first rain in ages. She was so happy that she bestowed smiles even onto people whose fashion choices begged for a sarcastic comment.

"What did you think of Trent's band?" Jane finally asked.

"They weren't as bad as you made them out to be," Daria said.

"Oh, c'mon on," Jane said. "'_Ow! My Face!_'. '_Every Dog has is Day_."

"Don't forget '_Icebox Woman'_." Daria quipped.

"There's not enough brain bleach in the world to forget that one," Jane replied. "Believe me. I've tried."

"That being said, they really aren't that bad," Daria continued. "The music is pretty good and the musicianship is more than good for the most part. What they need are better lyrics than what they currently have, the bass player needs to improve and Trent needs to learn that he doesn't need to shout but simply sing. His voice isn't horrible."  
"That song they did, '_Behind my Eyelids' _was their best. While again there were some dodgy lyrics, it had a decent goth vibe. That's the direction I'd take if I were your brother. The band's name already fits that genre"

Jane constantly teased her brother about Mystic Spiral but Daria's comments mirrored her own true thoughts to a 'T'.

Jane started to asked another question when two young men, one with a way outdated mullet the other with spiky bleached blonde hair, stepped from a bar in front of them. Both appeared to be in their early twenties and both were knee-wobbling drunk. Mullet wore a Lawndale State sweatshirt with jeans and a denim jacket. Spike dressed in jeans and a blue windbreaker but his shirt had Greek letters denoting a fraternity.

"Hey, hey ladies," Spike said in an unctuous tone that immediately brought to Jane's mind Charles Ruttheimer, aka 'Upchuck', the oiliest would be lothario at Lawndale High.

"Hi," Jane replied evenly as she and Daria tried to maneuver around them.

They immediately shifted staying in front of the girls. "What's your hurry?" Mullet spoke. "Let's go inside and get to know each other over a few beers."

"Thank you but we're both under-aged," Daria explained. "And need to get home."

She moved only to have the pair slide over blocking her way again. Daria backed up a few steps putting some space between her and the men. Both stared at the girls with a glint in their eyes that Daria did not like.

"C'mon," she said to Jane. "We'll go back to the corner and cut across."

"Hey, I'm talking to you," Spike snarled as the girls turned away.

He ran forward and grabbed Daria's arm jerking her around. The last thing he saw until he regained consciousness at Cedars of Lawndale hospital hours later was her boot whirling at his head. Jane heard the sickening crunch of bone as Spike dropped like a rag doll.

Mullet blankly stared at his fallen friend for a moment as his mind slowly processed what his eyes saw. "Bitch!" he barked when comprehension finally dawned.

He lunged at Daria. She crouched ready to defend herself but a frightened Jane swung a desperate punch aiming for Mullet's chin but drove her fist into his Adam's apple instead. He straightaway slumped to his knees clutching his throat before slowly toppling over on his side. His face turned an ugly purple as he tried to breathe.

Jane stood staring at Mullet her jaw hanging open. A burst from a police siren and the flash of blue lights rudely awoke her from her stupor.

"C'mon," Daria commanded.

She shoved Jane through the door of the club the two frat boys had exited. Jane stopped in the dim light. Daria darted past her grabbing her arm as she did. A bouncer yelled something but the girls dashed through the crowd before he could get close. A few patrons lost some drinks as the girls rushed by but Daria got the two of them to the back of the tavern before a cop entered the front door.

Without slowing down, Daria rammed open the back door. To her left, Daria could see the blue lights of the police car revolving on the walls of the building next door.

"This way," she ordered running to her left with a dazedJane on her heels.

As they neared the end of the alley, a dilapidated Ford Pinto screeched to a halt on the street in front of them.

"Hop in and stay down," the driver yelled pushing open the door.

Jane paused but Daria flipped the front seat down and dove into the back. Following her lead, Jane jumped into the front seat. "Scrunch down as much as you can," the driver said. Tires shrieking, the Pinto leaped from the curb as Jane obeyed his command.

Over the next few minutes, the driver took a left then two successive rights. Aiming for unobtrusive, Jane tried to get a good look at the driver and spot any butcher knives, guns, rope, or duct tape while attempting to block out the image of Mullet's purple dreadfully frightened face and the awful sound of him anxiously gasping for breath.

"We're in a residential neighborhood now," the driver finally said. "It's probably safe to sit up."

"Thanks," Daria said as she eased back onto the seat.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Jane said weakly unable to push herself onto her seat.

The driver turned another corner prior to edging the car over to a curb. Trembling, Jane rolled out of the car as soon as it stopped. Dropping on to all fours on the moist grass, she proceeded to be loudly sick by someone's mailbox scaring away a tabby cat in the process.

"There's some bottles of water back there on the floorboard," the driver said over his shoulder to Daria.

She found them and popped one bottle loose. She got her first good look at the driver when he stepped from the car, flipping the back of his seat down allowing her to exit. To her surprise, he was about her age although she could not remember seeing him around school. He was wiry and a little under average height. Intelligent brown eyes peeked out from under disheveled brown hair.

Ignoring the smell of the vomit, Daria and the driver eased Jane into a sitting position her back against the Pinto. Daria crouched beside her while he handed her a clean handkerchief. She took both gratefully. She rinsed her mouth out and spat before cleaning her face with the cloth. Satisfied at length Jane took another longer drink.

"I didn't kill him, did I?" she asked remembering the vivid purple of Mullet's face.

"No," the driver leaning against his car reassured her. "He wasn't happy but he was very much alive when I cut out."

"Where were you?" Daria asked. "For that matter, who are you?"

"Tom Sloane," he answered. "I was at the gas station across the street. I witnessed the whole thing. When I saw you run into the bar, I deduced what you would do so I drove around the corner and there you were."

"Thanks, you were a Godsend," Daria said. "I'm Daria. This is Jane."

"I always wanted to be a wheel man," Tom joked.

Daria smiled slightly at his response before turning her attention back to her friend. "Are you all right now?" she asked with concern.

"Yeah," Jane replied feebly. "We have time to get you home before curfew, don't we, Daria?"

"I'm not sure where we are," she calmly replied looking at her watch. "So, I can't make a guess."

"We're on Berry," Tom replied. "We just turned off of Winter Avenue."

Jane grinned as the others helped her to her feet. "My house is the next block over," she said. "We're only a ten minute walk from where you live."

"Except its ten fifty-three now," Daria said.

"I got you this far," Tom said. "I can get you the rest of the way."

"Thank you," she said appreciatively. "Do you know where Glen Oaks is?"

(*)

The weather was sunny and unusually warm for a late autumn day. Jane and Daria sipping on bottles of soda and sharing a bag of pretzels casually strolled through downtown Lawndale drifting as a capricious zephyr may with no particular destination and caring not a fig for the lack thereof.

"I can't believe that you just jumped into a strange car without a second thought," Jane said. "I can't believe I followed after you."

"I didn't need a second thought," Daria replied. "My options were too limited. Besides we're talking about a POS Pinto not a van with tinted windows."

Jane shook her head, a pained look ghosting across her face.

"Are you okay?" Daria asked.

"Yeah," Jane sighed reliving the previous night's events. "Man, I honestly thought that I killed that sucker. And the cops. You dragging me through that bar. The alley, Tom, everything. I was scared to death. I'm surprised I didn't puke in the car."

"Nothing to worry about. We didn't even make the news this morning so whatever damage done wasn't major," Daria said indifferently.

"Nothing major, Daria?" she exclaimed. "I heard that guy's jaw break when you kicked him."

"I'm sure that I dislocated it too and he more than likely has a concussion," Daria said shrugging off the matter.

Daria's utter unconcern about how hurt the two men were chilled Jane. True she thought Daria tried to avoid confrontation. It is not as if she attacked without provocation but when she did attack, she did so without mercy fully intending to cause as much pain as possible as quickly as possible.

"So what's your curfew today?" asked Jane changing the subject.

"The day is mine as long as I'm home for supper at six although phoning in a couple of times wouldn't hurt," Daria answered. "Then I can go out again until eleven. On Sunday and school nights I have to be in by eight o'clock still with the cravat of being home for supper. The arrangement hinges on staying out of trouble of course."

"Is that why you ran from the cops last night," Jane said.

"I wasn't going to let a couple of drunken dill weeds ruin everything for me," replied Daria emphatically.

"But we had witnesses who saw what happened," Jane pointed out. "Tom said he saw the whole thing."

"So what? Even if the cops believed us, it would have taken hours before we were released and it would not have been on our own recognizance," Daria argued. "I have too good of a deal to jeopardize it."

Jane waggled her head granting the point. "Not exactly unfettered freedom but it's not bad," she said moving on. "No biggie about the weeknights. I usually stay home those days anyway myself."

"But now at least we can be bored together," Daria replied. "Or have Quinn join us sometimes."  
"Your mom told me that Quinn's been saying a lot of nice things about yours truly," Jane said. "Part of the reason she loosened up on you."

"Thank you for being a decent person," joked Daria.

"It's what I do," Jane replied. "But Quinn's the one to thank."

"I already have," she replied. "But Quinn brushed it off. She's always felt a little responsible about the whole mess. I kept telling her that it wasn't her doing but I suppose that she needed to excise the phantom guilt herself."

"Why would she feel guilty?" asked Jane. "She squeal on you?"

"No," Daria said. "She won the lottery."

Jane frowned. "What? Like a lot of money?"

"No," she replied. They took several steps before Daria spoke again. "The schools in Highland were terrible…"

"Aren't they all?" Jane quipped interrupting her.

"No, actually, they aren't," Daria replied. "The difference between Hope High and Lawndale is night and day. Not that much of a stretch considering that Hope Middle and High schools were the dumping ground for the county's delinquents."

"So how'd you end there then?" Jane asked. "Someone screw up the paper work?"

Daria sighed deeply. "No," she said. "I earned my way in there."

Jane cut her eyes over to her friend. "Daria, you're kidding me," she said in disbelief. "C'mon, you're way too intelligent to be a juvie."

The shorter girl chuckled ruefully. "An old saying goes that good judgment comes from experience and experience comes from bad judgment," she said. "My judgment wasn't good for a while. I also learned that being intelligent which I will immodestly concede that I certainly am is not synonymous with being smart. In fact, I managed to be damn stupid."

Jane squeezed the bridge of her nose. "You're starting to give me a headache," she complained. "Quinn won a lottery, Highland schools sucked, and you became a juvenile delinquent. Okay, connect the dots for me if it isn't too convoluted."

Daria shook her head. "Nope," she replied. "It's fairly linear. As I said, the schools in Highland sucked but instead of trying to fix them, the School Board ran up the white flag. When I was about to begin the sixth grade, they said that they would start a charter school that would provide a truly challenging academic curriculum unfettered by the constraints of the regular schools, i.e. the morons weren't going to set the pace at which course work moved forward, those of us who wanted to learn would."

"Sounds like that would be your cup of tea," Jane observed.

"Oh, it was," Daria said. "I salivated at the thought."

"So what went wrong?" Jane asked.

"What always goes wrong with politicians?" Daria growled. "Every special interest group in the area started screaming elitism, racism, sexism, every other ism in the book so the School Board naturally caved like a bad soufflé. Instead of having the kids who merited such an environment such as me and yes, I'll readily admit that's egotistical, the Board elected with an eye on the next election to have the spots awarded on the basis of a lottery."

"Which Quinn won and you didn't," Jane guessed.

"Right in one," Daria replied.

"So you started knocking over liquor stores?" asked Jane.

Daria chuckled. "No, not quite," she replied. "I was understandably disappointed especially since Quinn heretofore showed no inclination for academics, school for her was a social event, but I licked my wounds and vowed to work harder in hopes that somehow the world would come to its senses."

"Danger, sharp learning curve ahead!" Jane quipped. "How long did disillusion take to set in? A week? A month? Did you hold on for a year?"

"No, it's…this is where it gets embarrassing," Daria responded.

"Are you going to leave me hanging?" Jane asked after a prolonged silence. "What drove you into a life of crime, Bonnie Parker?"

"My own immaturity," Daria regretfully declared. "A funny thing happened to my well formulated plan. The teachers at Quinn's school managed to tap into a previously unknown, unsuspected even, vein of intelligence hidden beneath her bubbly, giggling exterior. Not only was Quinn suddenly learning she hungered to learn. She could not wait for each day to start. Her grades went through the roof and she deserved every A that she received."

"That was a good thing, wasn't it?" Jane asked.

"Yeah, it was," Daria said. "It was a wonderful thing but I couldn't see that at the time."

"So what did you see?" asked Jane.

"My role being usurped," Daria replied shortly.

"Your role?"

"How I saw myself," Daria clarified smiling slightly as they continued to stroll under the warm sun. Talking to someone, a friend, about the mess she made of her life was cathartic. She felt the burden slide from her shoulders. A negative reaction from Jane was the possible fly in the ointment but now that she started her story, Daria could not stop. "Before then, I was the smart one and Quinn was the cute one."

"I see what you mean," Jane said.

"A simplistic viewpoint, I'll admit but I was only eleven," Daria resumed. "Suddenly, she was bringing home report cards with nothing but good marks and glowing comments from her teachers. Boom, she became smart and pretty. I had eyes, smart and pretty wasn't something I could pull off."

"You're hardly a dog, Daria," Jane argued.

"My reflection doesn't shatter mirrors but I've been around horny adolescents without being hit on," Daria said. "Of course, if I am only going to attract knuckle walkers like those two last night, I just assume to stay invisible."

"I dunno, Daria," Jane replied lightly. "It looked to me like Tom was giving you more than a once over last night."

"He did ask for my phone number when he walked me to the door," Daria confessed with a blush before continuing quickly preventing any further questions on the subject of Tom. "Anyway back to the tale told by an idiot full of sound and fury. Like so many idiots before me when things didn't go their way my basic attitude was 'fine, I'll show you'."  
"Previously I confined myself to a few obscure Shakespearean insults aimed at my teachers which generally went over their heads. The insults I began to direct at them, I delivered in plain if vulgar English that they readily understood. The slings and arrows from my peers that I once ignored I answered with fists, kicks, and books upside their heads. Needless to say I soon attracted the interest of the sort of kids no mother wants her daughter hanging around with and from there it was a hop, skip, and a jump to vandalism, shoplifting, all the petty nonsense that a bunch of middle class kids who think that they're badass get into."

"I'm not going to call you a liar, Daria, but I find it hard to believe," Jane said.

"Yeah, me too, looking back on it," Daria replied regretfully. "But the fun really got started when the cops brought the drug sniffing dogs to school halfway through my seventh grade year. Rin Tin Tin zeroed in on the pot in my jacket pocket and I got a one-way ticket to Hope."

"Jeez, drugs, too," Jane said unable to keep the disappointment in her friend from her voice. "No wonder your mom locked you up."

"I told you that the fault was mine entirely," Daria replied. "But she didn't permanently ground me until the summer between my eighth and ninth grades."

"What more did you have to do?" asked Jane afire with curiosity.

"I was implicated in a robbery of a convenience store," Daria answered. "The irony of the affair was after all that I did do, Mom dropped the hammer on me for something that I didn't."

"Mistaken identity?" Jane ventured.

"Presumed guilt by association would be more accurate," Daria replied. "And plain bad timing. I was paying for a _Dr. Pepper _when three boys from my school grabbed some cases of beer and ran out the door. One of the Slurpee jockeys jumped over the counter to give chase but succeeded in colliding with me instead. My glasses, he and I all went flying. I hit the floor and he wiped out the _Little Debbie _display. By the time I got my glasses back on, the boys were gone, I had a forty-five aimed at me and someone was screaming at a 9-1-1 operator that they had just been robbed and were holding one of the thieves at gunpoint."

"But you weren't with the three, were you?" asked Jane.

"No," Daria answered. "But the clerks said that I acted as the thieves' decoy then purposely hindered any pursuit. The cops believed it once they discovered that I went to Hope. For the second time Mom and Dad had to come to the police station to get their little girl out of jail. By the time the security tapes cleared me, I was doing a four year stretch in my bedroom."

"Bummer," Jane said then frowned. "Did the grounding keep you out of trouble?"

"Yes and no," Daria said. "Staring at a gun got my attention. I saw the damn thing in my dreams for weeks. It was the classic wake-up call so I took the advice of the tee shirt. I put on my big girl panties and started dealing with life. I began to make peace with my family and myself, stopped cutting class, got back to reading books and writing again. Quinn was learning the guitar so I joined her in that which was all and good but did not lessen my mother's resolve to keep me on a very, very short chain."

Jane sobered even more. "So what was the 'no' part of your 'yes and no' answer."

"Hope High was still part of the reality I was dealing with," she said then tapped her left arm. "Near the end of the second trimester last year I fed the knife that gave me these scars to the girl who wielded it."

Jane blinked, taken aback by the instant callousness of her friend's voice. Reflexively she rubbed her neck fleetingly reliving the memory of Daria foot on her throat and the cold eyes boring into her. "You killed someone?" she asked timidly fearful of the answer.

"No," Daria replied. "I broke her arm and shoved the knife she still clutched in her hand into her abdomen neither of which did her much good but she lived. Defending myself netted me yet another ride downtown. I avoided expulsion from Hope only because Mom threatened a lawsuit."

"All's well that ends well," quoted Jane nervously.

"Yeah, but it hasn't ended," Daria replied. "And probably won't until I graduate if then. Regaining my parents' trust completely is definitely a work in progress."

"I'll try not to lead you astray," Jane quipped. "I can't speak for young Thomas, however. Of course, he did see you break a man's jaw with a roundhouse kick. That'll probably keep him from getting too fresh."

"Just my luck," Daria jokingly complained.

Conversation wound down. Unlike most teen girls who needed to talk to breath, they walked on with comfortable stretches of silence content with each other's company and the warmth and freedom of the day. Occasionally Jane pointed out something of interest, a business or a building or place where something weird or funny happened. They meandered through the Village Green, took in the Giant Strawberry, and watched traffic at the infamous seven corners intersection ("Hasn't anyone here ever heard of a traffic circle"? Daria asked)

By the time they got back to Daria's house in time for supper, they were tired. To their surprise, Jake took everyone out to eat at _Scarlet Scallop_, a new client of his. The food was good and the mood even better. Quinn's smile never fell from her face and Jane noticed the delighted look that passed between Jake and Helen more than once. Even Daria was beaming. Why shouldn't they be happy, Jane thought. They're getting their family back. I think that Daria will win back their trust sooner then she believes possible, certainly sooner then she believes that she deserves.

(*)

Jane and Daria stood on the walkway before the Morgendorffer house. The night air was nippy but neither girl noticed it.

"One of the better days," Jane said.

"Yeah, it was," Daria agreed.

"I'll give you a call tomorrow when I wake up," Jane said. "See if we can top today or not. See ya."

"Jane, wait," Daria said.

Before Jane could ask anything the shorter girl pulled her into a brief but genuine hug. "Thank you," she said as she released her.

"For what?" Jane asked.

"For being my friend more than anything," she replied. "I know that I sometimes scare you and I know just how much I hurt you when I flipped you onto the floor yet you keep forgiving me. My mom throws you out of the house but come the following Monday you still wanted to talk to me."

"Last night scared me witless," Jane acknowledged. "Helen did too and yeah, you did hurt me but it goes both ways. You like me for who I am. I find that amazing. You're the first friend I've had since elementary school."

"I'm not sure that I ever had one," Daria said. "And I know that while I might have gotten my grounding lifted eventually it wouldn't have been anywhere this soon if you weren't my friend. Today was possible because of you. Thank you"

"You're welcome," Jane replied huskily. "I'll call you tomorrow."

"I'll be here," Daria promised.


End file.
